THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 

BY  WASHINGTON  IRVING. 


Issued  Semi-Mont,hlv. 

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Washington  Irving,  a  distinguished  American  author,  was  born  in  the  city 
of  New  York,  April  3,  1783.  At  the  age  of  16,  entered  a  law  office;  but  he 
profited  largely  by  his  father's  well-stocked  library,  Chaucer  and  Spenser  being 
his  favorite  authors.  New  York,  at  this  period,  was  a  small  town  of  about  50,000 
inhabitants,  many  of  whom  were  descendants  of  the  original  Dutch  settlers, 
having  quaint  manners  and  customs,  of  which  Irving  was  a  curious  observer. 
In  1804,  he  visited,  and  traveled  extensively  in  Europe;  returned  to  New  York 
in  1807,  and  contributed  a  series  of  genial  and  humorous  essays  to  a  periodical 
called  "Salmagundi."  In  1809,  he  wrote  "A  History  of  New  York,  from  the 
Beginning  of  the  World  to  the  End  of  the  Dutch  Dynasty,  by  Diedrick  Knick- 
erbocker, ' '  a  burlesque  chronicle  written  in  so  quiet  a  vein  of  humor,  that  it  has 
sometimes  been  taken  for  a  veritable  history. 

Having  no  inclination  for  law,  he  engaged  in  commerce  with  his  brothers 
as  a  silent  partner,  but  devoted  his  time  to  literature,  and  in  1813,  edited  the 
"  Analectic  Magazine,"  in  Philadelphia.  At  the  close  of  the  war  in  1815,  he 
visited  England,  where  he  was  warmly  welcomed  by  Campbell,  whose  biography 
he  had  formerly  written,  and  was  introduced  by  him  to  Walter  Scott.  Shortly 
after  he  wrote  a  "  Sketch  Book,"  which  has  a  peculiar  charm  in  its  beauty  and 
freshness. 

Irving  went  to  Paris,  and  in  1822  wrote  "  Bracebridge  Hall,"  and  in  1824 
the  "Tales  of  a  Traveler."  He  was  then  invited  by  Everett,  the  American 
ambassador  to  Spain,  to  accompany  him  to  Madrid,  to  translate  documents  con- 
nected with  the  life  of  Columbus.  With  these  materials  he  wrote  his  1 '  History 
of  the  Life  and  Voyages  of  Columbus  "  (1828);  "Voyages  of  the  Companions  of 
Columbus,"  "The  Conquest  of  Granada,"  "  The  Alhambra  "(1832),  a  portion  of 
which  was  written  in  the  ancient  palace  of  the  Moorish  kings,  "  Legends  of  the 
Conquest  of  Spain"  (1835),  and  "Mahomet  and  His  Successors  "(1849).  In 
1829  Irving  returned  to  England  as  secretary  to  the  American  legation.  In  1831 
he  received  the  honorary  degree  of  LL.  D.  from  the  university  of  Oxford,  and 
next  year  returned  to  America  where  he  was  received  with  great  enthusiasm. 
A  visit  to  the  Rocky  Mountains  produced  his  1 1  Tour  on  the  Prairies. "  He  also 
contributed  sketches  of  Abbotsford  and  Newstead  Abbey  to  the  "  Crayon  Mis- 
cellany," and  from  the  papers  of  John  Jacob  Astor,  wrote  "  Astori  a"  (1837),  and 
the  "Adventures  of  Captain  Bonneville;  "  also  a  series  of  stories  and  essays  in 
the  "Knickerbocker  Magazine,"  collected  under  the  title  of  "  Wolfert's  Roost." 
In  1842,  he  was  appointed  minister  to  Spain..  In  1846  was  published  his  "  Life 
of  Goldsmith,"  and  his  great  work,  the  "  Life  of  Washington, "  was  published 
in  1855-1859.  An  edition  of  his  works  in  15  volumes  reached  a  sale  of  250,000 
volumes.  He  spent  the  last  years  of  his  life  at  Sunnyside,  in  his  own  "  Sleepy 
Hollow,"  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson,  near  Tarrytown,  with  his  nieces,  where 
he  died  suddenly  of  disease  of  the  heart,  November  28,  1859. 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW, 


In  the  bosom  of  one  of  those  spacious  coves  which  indent  the 
eastern  shore  of  the  Hudson,  at  that  broad  expansion  of  the  river 
denominated  by  the  ancient  Dutch  navigators  the  Tappan  Zee, 
and  where  they  always  prudently  shortened  sail  and  implored  the 
protection  of  St.  Nicholas  when  they  crossed,  there  lies  a  small 
market  town  or  rural  port,  which  by  some  is  called  Greensburgh, 
but  which  is  more  generally  and  properly  known  by  the  name  of 
Tarry  Town.  This  name  was  given,  we  are  told,  in  former  days, 
by  the  good  housewives  of  the  adjacent  country,  from  the  invet- 
erate propensity  of  their  husbands  to  linger  about  the  village 
tavern  on  market  days.  Be  that  as  it  may,  I  do  not  vouch  for  the 
fact,  but  merely  advert  to  it,  for  the  sake  of  being  precise  and 
authentic.  Not  far  from  this  village,  perhaps  about  two  miles, 
there  is  a  little  valley  or  rather  lap  of  land  among  high  hills, 
which  is  one  of  the  quietest  places  in  the  whole  world.  A  small 
brook  glides  through  it,  with  just  murmur  enough  to  lull  one  to 
repose ;  and  the  occasional  whistle  of  a  quail  or  tapping  of  a  wood- 
pecker is  almost  the  only  sound  that  ever  breaks  in  upon  the  uni- 
form tranquillity. 

I  recollect  that,  when  a  stripling,  my  first  exploit  in  squirrel- 
shooting  was  in  a  grove  of  tall  walnut-trees  that  shades  one  side 
of  the  valley.  I  had  wandered  into  it  at  noontime,  when  all 
nature  is  peculiarly  quiet,  and  was  startled  by  the  roar  of  my  own 
gun,  as  it  broke  the  Sabbath  stillness  around  and  was  prolonged 
and  reverberated  by  the  angry  echoes.  If  ever  I  should  wish 
for  a  retreat  whither  I  might  steal  from  the  world  and  its  distrac- 

s 


4  THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


tions,  and  dream  quietly  away  the  remnant  of  a  troubled  life,  I 
know  of  none  more  promising  than  this  little  valley. 

From  the  listless  repose  of  the  place,  and  the  peculiar  char- 
acter of  its  inhabitants,  who  are  descendants  from  the  original 
Dutch  settlers,  this  sequestered  glen  has  long  been  known  by  the 
name  of  Sleepy  Hollow,  and  its  rustic  lads  are  called  the  Sleepy 
Hollow  Boys  throughout  all  the  neighboring  country.  A  drowsy, 
dreamy  influence  seems  to  hang  over  the  land,  and  to  pervade 
the  very  atmosphere.  Some  say  that  the  place  was  bewitched 
by  a  High  German  doctor,  during  the  early  days  of  the  settle- 
ment; others,  that  an  old  Indian  chief,  the  prophet  or  wizard  of 
his  tribe,  held  his  powwows  there  before  the  country  was  discov- 
ered by  Master  Hendrick  Hudson.  Certain  it  is,  the  place  still 
continues  under  the  sway  of  some  witching  power,  that  holds  a 
spell  over  the  minds  of  the  good  people,  causing  them  to  walk 
in  a  continual  reverie.  They  are  given  to  all  kinds  of  marvelous 
beliefs;  are  subject  to  trances  and  visions,  and  frequently  see 
strange  sights,  and  hear  music  and  voices  in  the  air.  The  whole 
neighborhood  abounds  with  local  tales,  haunted  spots,  and  twi- 
light superstitions;  stars  shoot  and  meteors  glare  oftener  across 
the  valley  than  in  any  other  part  of  the  country,  and  the  night- 
mare, with  her  whole  ninefold,  seems  to  make  it  the  favorite  scene 
of  her  gambols. 

The  dominant  spirit,  however,  that  haunts  this  enchanted 
region,  and  seems  to  be  commander-in-chief  of  all  the  powers  of 
the  air,  is  the  apparition  of  a  figure  on  horseback,  without  a  head. 
It  is  said  by  some  to  be  the  ghost  of  a  Hessian  trooper,  whose 
head  had  been  carried  away  by  a  cannon-ball,  in  some  nameless 
battle  during  the  Revolutionary  W ar,  and  who  is  ever  and  anon 
seen  by  the  country  folk  hurrying  along  in  the  gloom  of  night, 
as  if  on  the  wings  of  the  wind.  His  haunts  are  not  confined  to  the 
valley,  but  extend  at  times  to  the  adjacent  roads,  and  especially 
to  the  vicinity  of  a  church  at  no  great  distance.  Indeed,  certain 
of  the  most  authentic  historians  of  those  parts,  who  have  been 
careful  in  collecting  and  collating  the  .floating  facts  concerning 
this  specter,  allege  that  the  body  of  the  trooper  having  been 
buried  in  the  churchyard,  the  ghost  rides  forth  to  the  scene  of 
battle  in  nightly  quest  of  his  head,  and  that  the  rushing  speed  with 
which  he  sometimes  passes  along  the  Hollow,  like  a  midnight 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


5 


blast,  is  owing  to  his  being  belated,  and  in  a  hurry  to  get  back  to 
the  churchyard  before  daybreak. 

Such  is  the  general  purport  of  this  legendary  superstition, 
which  has  furnished  materials  for  many  a  wild  story  in  that 
region  of  shadows;  and  the  specter  is  known  at  all  the  country 
firesides,  by  the  name  of  the  Headless  Horseman  of  Sleepy 
Hollow. 

It  is  remarkable  that  the  visionary  propensity  I  have  men- 
tioned is  not  confined  to  the  native  inhabitants  of  the  valley,  but 
is  unconsciously  imbibed  by  every  one  who  resides  there  for  a 
time.  However  wideawake  they  may  have  been  before  they 
entered  that  sleepy  region,  they  are  sure,  in  a  little  time,  to  inhale 
the  witching  influence  of  the  air,  and  begin  to  grow  imaginative, 
to  dream  dreams,  and  see  apparitions. 

I  mention  this  peaceful  spot  with  all  possible  laud ;  for  it  is  in 
such  little  retired  Dutch  valleys,  found  here  and  there  embosomed 
in  the  great  State  of  Xew  York,  that  population,  manners,  and 
customs  remain  fixed,  while  the  great  torrent  of  migration  and 
improvement,  which  is  making  such  incessant  changes  in  other 
parts  of  this  restless  country,  sweeps  by  them  unobserved.  *  They 
are  like  those  little  nooks  of  still  water,  which  border  a  rapid 
stream,  where  we  may  see  the  straw  and  bubble  riding  quietly  at 
anchor,  or  slowly  revolving  in  their  mimic  harbor,  undisturbed 
by  the  rush  of  the  passing  current.  Though  many  years  have 
elapsed  since  I  trod  the  drowsy  shades  of  Sleepy  Hollow,' yet  I 
question  whether  I  should  not  still  find  the  same  trees  and  the 
same  families  vegetating  in  its  sheltered  bosom. 

In  this  by-place  of  nature  there  abode,  in  a  remote  period  of 
American  history,  that  is  to  say  some  thirty  years  since,  a  worthy 
wight  of  the  name  of  Ichabod  Crane,  who  sojourned,  or,  as  he 
expressed  it,  "tarried,"  in  Sleepy  Hollow,  for  the  purpose  of  in- 
structing the  children  of  the  vicinity.  He  was  a  native  of  Con- 
necticut, a  State  which  supplies  the  Union  with  pioneers  for  the 
mind  as  well  as  for  the  forest,  and  sends  forth  yearly  its  legions 
of  frontier  woodmen  and  country  schoolmasters.  The  cogno- 
men of  Crane  was  not  inapplicable  to  his  person.  He  was  tall, 
but  exceedingly  lank,  with  narrow  shoulders,  long  arms  and  legs, 
hands  that  dangled  a  mile  out  of  his  sleeves,  feet  that  might  have 
served  for  shovels,  and  his  whole  frame  most  loosely*  hung 


6  THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


together.  His  head  was  small,  and  flat  at  top,  with  huge  ears, 
large  green  glassy  eyes,  and  a  long  snipe  nose,  so  that  it  looked 
like  a  weather-cock  perched  upon  his  spindle  neck  to  tell  which 
way  the  wind  blew.  To  see  him  striding  along  the  profile  of  a 
hill  on  a  windy  day,  with  his  clothes  bagging  and  fluttering  about 
him,  one  might  have  mistaken  him  for  the  genius  of  famine 
descending  upon  the  earth,  or  some  scarecrow  eloped  from  a 
cornfield. 

His  schoolhouse  was  a  low  building  of  one  large  room,  rudely 
constructed  of  logs;  the  windows  partly  glazed,  and  partly 
patched  with  leaves  of  old  copybooks.  It  was  most  ingeniously 
secured  at  vacant  hours,  by  a  withe  twisted  in  the  handle  of  the 
door,  and  stakes  set  against  the  window  shutters ;  so  that  though 
a  thief  might  get  in  with  perfect  ease,  he  would  find  some  embar- 
rassment in  getting  out — an  idea  most  probably  borrowed  by  the 
architect,  Yost  Van  Houten,  from  the  mystery  of  an  eelpot.  The 
schoolhouse  stood  in  a  rather  lonely  but  pleasant  situation,  just 
at  the  foot  of  a  woody  hill,  with  a  brook  running  close  by,  and  a 
formidable  birch-tree  growing  at  one  end  of  it.  From  hence 
the  low  murmur  of  his  pupils'  voices,  conning  over  their  lessons, 
might  be  heard  in  a  drowsy  summer's  day,  like  the  hum  of  a  bee- 
hive ;  interrupted  now  and  then  by  the  authoritative  voice  of  the 
master,  in  the  tone  of  menace  or  command ;  or,  peradventure,  by 
the  appalling  sound  of  the  birch,  as  he  urged  some  tardy  loiterer 
along  the  flowery  path  of  knowledge.  Truth  to  say,  he  was  a 
conscientious  man,  and  ever  bore  in  mind  the  golden  maxim, 
"Spare  the  rod  and  spoil  the  child."  Ichabod  Crane's  scholars 
certainly  were  not  spoiled. 

I  would  not  have  it  imagined,  however,  he  was  one  of  those 
cruel  potentates  of  the  school  who  joy  in  the  smart  of  their  sub- 
jects; on  the  contrary,  he  administered  justice  with  discrimina- 
tion rather  than  severity ;  taking  the  burden  off  the  backs  of  the 
weak,  and  laying  it  on  those  of  the  strong.  Your  mere  puny 
stripling,  that  winced  at  the  least  flourish  of  the  rod,  was  passed 
by  with  indulgence;  but  the  claims  of  justice  were  satisfied  by 
inflicting  a  double  portion  on  some  little  tough,  wrong-headed, 
broad-skirted  Dutch  urchin,  who  sulked  and  swelled  and  grew 
dogged  and  sullen  beneath  the  birch.  All  this  he  called  "doing 
his  duty  by  their  parents;"  and  he  never  inflicted  a  chastisement 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW.  7 


without  following  it  by  the  assurance,  so  consolatory  to  the 
smarting  urchin,  that  "he  would  remember  it  and  thank  him  for 
it  the  longest  day  he  had  to  live." 

When  school  hours  were  over,  he  was  even  the  companion 
and  playmate  of  the  larger  boys ;  and  on  holiday  afternoons  would 
convoy  some  of  the  smaller  ones  home,  who  happened  to  have 
pretty  sisters,  or  good  housewives  for  mothers,  noted  for  the  com- 
forts of  the  cupboard.  Indeed,  it  behooved  him  to  keep  on  good 
terms  with  his  pupils.  The  revenue  arising  from  his  school 
was  small,  and  would  have  been  scarcely  sufficient  to  furnish  him 
with  daily  bread,  for  he  was  a  huge  feeder,  and,  though  lank,  had 
the  dilating  powers  of  an  anaconda;  but  to  help  out  his  main- 
tenance, he^  was,  according  to  country  custom  in  those  parts, 
boarded  and  lodged  at  the  houses  of  the  farmers  whose  children 
he  instructed.  With  these  he  lived  successively  a  week  at  a  time, 
thus  going  the  rounds  of  the  neighborhood,  with  all  his  worldly 
effects  tied  up  in  a  cotton  handkerchief. 

That  all  this  might  not  be  too  onerous  on  the  purses  of  his 
rustic  patrons,  who  are  apt  to  consider  the  costs  of  schooling  a 
grievous  burden,  and  schoolmasters  as  mere  drones,  he  had  vari- 
ous ways  of  rendering  himself  both  useful  and  agreeable.  He 
assisted  the  farmers  occasionally  in  the  lighter  labors  of  their 
farms,  helped  to  make  hay,  mended  the  fences,  took  the  horses  to 
water,  drove  the  cows  from  pasture,  and  cut  wood  for  the  winter 
fire.  He  laid  aside,  too,  all  the  dominant  dignity  and  absolute 
sway  with  which  he  lorded  it  in  his  little  empire,  the  school,  and 
became  wonderfully  gentle  and  ingratiating.  He  found  favor 
in  the  eyes  of  the  mothers  by  petting  the  children,  particularly 
the  youngest ;  and  like  the  lion  bold,  which  whilom  so  magnani- 
mously the  lamb  did  hold,  he  would  sit  with  a  child  on  one  knee, 
and  rock  a  cradle  with  his  foot  for  whole  hours  together. 

In  addition  to  his  other  vocations,  he  was  singing-master  .of 
the  neighborhood,  and  picked  up  many  bright  shillings  by  in- 
structing the  young  folks  in  psalmody.  It  was  a  matter  of  no 
little  vanity  to  him  on  Sundays,  to  take  his  station  in  front  of  the 
church  gallery,  with  a  band  of  chosen  singers ;  where,  in  his  own 
mind,  he  completely  carried  away  the  palm  from  the  parson. 
Certain  it  is,  his  voice  resounded  far  above  all  the  rest  of  the 
congregation ;  and  there  are  peculiar  quavers  still  to  be  heard  in 


8 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


that  church,  and  which  may  even  be  heard  half  a  mile  off,  quite 
to  the  opposite  side  of  the  millpond,  on  a  still  Sunday  morning, 
which  are  said  to  be  legitimately  descended  from  the  nose  of 
Ichabod  Crane.  Thus,  by  divers  little  makeshifts,  in  that  ingeni- 
ous way  which  is  commonly  denominated  by  "hook  and  by  crook," 
the  worthy  pedagogue  got  on  tolerably  enough,  and  was  thought, 
by  all  who  understood  nothing  of  the  labor  of  headwork,  to  have 
a  wonderfully  easy  life  of  it. 

The  schoolmaster  is  generally  a  man  of  some  importance  in 
the  female  circle  of  a  rural  neighborhood ;  being  considered  a  kind 
of  idle,  gentlemanlike  personage,  of  vastly  superior  taste  and 
accomplishments  to  the  rough  country  swains,  and,  indeed,  inferior 
in  learning  only  to  the  parson.  His  appearance,  therefore,  is  apt 
to  occasion  some  little  stir  at  the  tea-table  of  a  farmhouse,  and 
the  addition  of  a  supernumerary  dish  of  cakes  or  sweetmeats,  or, 
peradventure,  the  parade  of  a  silver  teapot.  Our  man  of  letters, 
therefore,  was  peculiarly  happy  in  the  smiles  of  all  the  country 
damsels.  How.  he  would  figure  among  them  in  the  churchyard, 
between  services  on  Sundays!  gathering  grapes  for  them  from, 
the  wild  vines  that  overran  the  surrounding  trees;  reciting  for 
their  amusement  all  the  epitaphs  on  the  tombstones ;  or  sauntering, 
with  a  whole  bevy  of  them,  along  the  banks  of  the  adjacent  mill- 
pond  ;  while  the  more  bashful  country  bumpkins  hiing  sheepishly 
back,  envying  his  superior  elegance  and  address. 

From  his  half-itinerant  life,  also,  he  was  a  kind  of  traveling 
gazette,  carrying  the  whole  budget  of  local  gossip  from  house  to 
house,  so  that  his  appearance  was  always  greeted  with  satisfac- 
tion. He  was,  moreover,  esteemed  by  the  woman  as  a  man  of 
great  erudition,  for  he  had  read  several  books  quite  through,  and 
was  a  perfect  master  of  Cotton  Mather's  "History  of  New  Eng- 
land Witchcraft,"  in  which,  by  the  way,  he  most  firmly  and 
potently  believed. 

He  was,  in  fact,  an  odd  mixture  of  small  shrewdness  and 
simple  credulity.  His  appetite  for  the  marvelous,  and  his  powers 
of  digesting  it,  were  equally  extraordinary;  and  both  had  been 
increased  by  his  residence  in  this  spell-bound  region.  No  tale 
was  too  gross  or  monstrous  for  his  capacious  swallow.  It  was 
often  his  delight,  after  his  school  was  dismissed  in  the  afternoon, 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW.  9 


to  stretch  himself  on  the  rich  bed  of  clover  bordering  the  little 
brook  that  whimpered  by  his  school-house,  and  there  con  over  old 
Mather's  direful  tales,  until  the  gathering  dusk  of  evening  made 
the  printed  page  a  mere  mist  before  his  eyes.  Then,  as  he  wended 
his  way  by  swamp  and  stream  and  awful  woodland,  to  the  farm- 
house where  he  happened  to  be  quartered,  every  sound  of  nature, 
at  that  witching  hour,  fluttered  his  excited  imagination — the  moan 
of  the  whip-poor-will  from  the  hillside,  the  boding  cry  of  the 
tree  toad,  that  harbinger  of  storm,  the  dreary  hooting  of  the 
screech  owl,  to  the  sudden  rustling  in  the  thicket  of  birds  fright- 
ened from  their  roost.  The  fireflies,  too,  which  sparkled  most 
vividly  in  the  darkest  places,  now  and  then  startled  him,  as  one  of 
uncommon  brightness  would  stream  across  his  path;  and  if,  by 
chance,  a  huge  blockhead  of  a  beetle  came  winging  his  blundering 
flight  against  him,  the  poor  varlet  was  ready  to  give  up  the  ghost, 
with  the  idea  that  he  was  struck  with  a  witch's  token.  His  only 
resource  on  such  occasions,  either  to  drown  thought  or  drive  away 
evil  spirits,  was  to  sing  psalm  tunes ;  and  the  good  people  of  Sleepy 
Hollow,  as  they  sat  by  their  doors  of  an  evening,  were  often  filled 
with  awe  at  hearing  his  nasal  melody,  "in  linked  sweetness  long 
drawn  out,"  floating  from  the  distant  hill,  or  along  the  dusky 
road. 

Another  of  his  sources  of  fearful  pleasure  was  to  pass  long 
winter  evenings  with  the  old  Dutch  wives,  as  they  sat  spinning 
by  the  fire,  with  a  row  of  apples  roasting  and  spluttering  along  the 
hearth,  and  listen  to  their  marvelous  tales  of  ghosts  and  goblins, 
and  haunted  fields,  and  haunted  brooks,  and  haunted  bridges,  and 
haunted  houses,  and  particularly  of  the  headless  horseman,  or 
Galloping  Hessian  of  the  Hollow,  as  they  sometimes  called  him. 
He  would  delight  them  equally  by  his  anecdotes  of  witchcraft,  and 
of  the  direful  omens  and  portentous  sights  and  sounds  in  the  air, 
which  prevailed  in  the  earlier  times  of  Connecticut;  and  would 
frighten  them  woefully  with  speculations  upon  comets  and  shoot- 
ing stars;  and  with  the  alarming  fact  that  the  world  did  abso- 
lutely turn  round,  and  that  they  were  half  the  time  topsy-turvy! 

But  if  there  was  a  pleasure  in  all  this,  while  snugly  cuddling 
in  the  chimney  corner  of  a  chamber  that  was  all  of  a  ruddy  glow 
from  the  cracking  wood  fire,  and  where,  of  course,  no  specter 
dared  to  show  its  face,  it  was  dearly  purchased  by  the  terrors  of 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


his  subsequent  walk  homeward.  What  fearful  shapes  and 
shadows  beset  his  path,  amid  the  dim  and  ghastly  glare  of  a 
snowy  night !  With  what  wistful  look  did  he  eye  every  trembling 
ray  of  light  streaming  across  the  waste  fields  from  some  distant 
window!  How  often  was  he  appalled  by  some  shrub  covered 
with  snow,  which,  like  a  sheeted  specter,  beset  his  very  path! 
How  often  did  he  shrink  with  curdling  awe  at  the  sound  of  his 
own  steps  on  the  frosty  crust  beneath  his  feet ;  and  dread  to  look 
over  his  shoulder,  lest  he  should  behold  some  uncouth  being 
tramping  close  behind  him!  and  how  often  was  he  thrown  into 
complete  dismay  by  some  rushing  blast,  howling  among  the  trees, 
in  the  idea  that  it  was  the  Galloping  Hessian  on  one  of  his  nightly 
scourings ! 

All  these,  however,  were  mere. terrors  of  the  night  phantoms 
of  the  mind  that  walk  in  darkness ;  and  though  he  had  seen  many 
specters  in  his  time,  and  been  more  than  once  beset  by  Satan  in 
divers  shapes,  in  his  lonely  perambulations,  yet  daylight  put  an 
end  to  all  these  evils ;  and  he  would  have  passed  a  pleasant  life  of 
it,  in' spite  of  the  devil  and  all  his Nvorks,  if  his  path#had  not 
been  crossed  by  a  being  that  causes  more  perplexity  to  mortal  man 
than  ghosts,  goblins,  and  the  whole  race  of  witches  put  together, 
and  that  was — a  woman. 

Among  the  musical  disciples  who  assembled,  one  evening  in 
each  week,  to  receive  his  instructions  in  psalmody,  was  Katrina 
Van  Tassel,  the  daughter  and  only  child  of  a  substantial  Dutch 
farmer.  She  was  a  blooming  lass  of  fresh  eighteen;  plump  as 
a  partridge;  ripe  and  melting  and  rosy-cheeked,  as  one  of  her 
father's  peaches,  and  universally  famed,  not  merely  for  her 
beauty,  but  her  vast  expectations.  She  was  withal  a  little  of  a 
coquette,  as  might  be  perceived  even  in  her  dress,  which  was  a 
mixture  of  ancient  and  modern  fashions,  as  most  suited  to  set 
off  her  charms.  She  wore  the  ornaments  of  pure  yellow  gold, 
which  her  great-great-grandmother  had  brought  over  from  Saar- 
dam ;  the  tempting  stomacher  of  the  olden  time,  and  withal  a  pro- 
vokingly  short  petticoat,  to  display  the  prettiest  foot  and  ankle  in 
the  country  round. 

Ichabod  Crane  had  a  soft  and  foolish  heart  toward  the  sex; 
and  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at.  that  so  tempting  a  morsel  soon 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW.  1 1 


found  favor  in  his  eyes,  more  especially  after  he  had  visited  her 
in  her  paternal  mansion.  Old  Zaltus  Van  Tassel  was  a  perfect 
picture  of  a  thriving,  contented,  liberal-hearted  farmer.  He  sel- 
dom, it  is  true,  sent  either  his  eyes  or  his  thoughts  beyond  the 
boundaries  of  his  own  farm;  but  within  those  everything  was 
snug,  happy  and  well-conditioned.  He  was  satisfied  with  his 
wealth,  but  not  proud  of  it;  he  piqued  himself  upon  the  hearty 
abundance,  rather  than  the  style  in  which  he  lived.  His  strong- 
hold was  situated  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson,  in  one  of  those 
green,  sheltered,  fertile  nooks  in  which  the  Dutch  farmers  are  so 
fond  of  nestling.  A  great  elm  tree  spread  its  broad  branches 
over  it,  at  the  foot  of  which  bubbled  up  a  spring  of  the  softest  and 
sweetest  water,  in  a  little  well  formed  of  a  barrel ;  and  then  stole 
sparkling  away  through  the  grass,  to  a  neighboring  brook,  that 
babbled  along  among  alders  and  dwarf  willows.  Hard  by  the 
farmhouse  was  a  vast  barn,  that  might  have  served  for  a  church ; 
every  window  and  crevice  of  which  seemed  bursting  forth  with 
the  treasures  of  the  farm ;  the  flail  was  busily  resounding  within 
it  from  morning  to  night;  swallows  and  martins  skimmed  twit- 
tering about  the  eaves ;  and  rows  of  pigeons,  some  with  one  eye 
turned  up,  as  if  watching  the  weather,  some  with  their  heads 
under  their  wings  or  buried  in  their  bosoms,  and  others  swelling, 
and  cooing,  and  bowing  about  their  dames,  were  enjoying  the 
sunshine  on  the  roof.  Sleek  unwieldly  porkers  were  grunting  in 
the  repose  and  abundance  of  their  pens,  from  whence  sallied 
forth,  now  and  then,  troops  of  sucking  pigs,  as  if  to  snuff  the 
air.  A  stately  squadron  of  snowy  geese  were  riding  in  an  adjoin- 
ing pond,  convoying  whole  fleets  of  ducks ;  regiments  of  turkeys 
were  gobbling  through  the  farmyard,  and  Guinea  fowls  fretting 
about  it,  like  ill-tempered  housewives,  with  their  peevish,  discon- 
tented cry.  Before  the  barn  door  strutted  the  gallant  cock,  that 
pattern  of  a  husband,  a  warrior  and  a  fine  gentleman,  clapping 
his  burnished  wings  and  crowing  in  the  pride  and  gladness  of  his 
heart — sometimes  tearing  up  the  earth  with  his  feet,  and  then 
generously  calling  his  ever-hungry  family  of  wives  and  children 
to  enjoy  the  rich  morsel  which  he  had  discovered. 

The  pedagogue's  mouth  watered  as  he  looked  upon  this 
sumptuous  promise  of  luxurious  winter  fare.  In  his  devouring 
mind's  eye,  he  pictured  to  himself  every  roasting-pig  running 


12 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


about  with  a  pudding  in  his  belly,  and  an  apple  in  his  mouth :  the 
pigeons  were  snugly  put  to  bed  in  a  comfortable  pie,  and  tucked  in 
with  a  coverlet  of  crust ;  the  geese  were  swimming  in  their  own 
gravy;  and  the  ducks  pairing  cosily  in  dishes,  like  snug  married 
couples,  with  a  decent  competency  of  onion  sauce.  In  the  porkers 
he  saw  carved  out  the  future  sleek  side  of  bacon,  and  juicy  relish- 
ing ham;  not  a  turkey  but  he  beheld  daintily  trussed  up,  with  its 
gizzard  under  its  wing,  and,  peradventure,  a  necklace  of  savory 
sausages;  and  even  bright  chanticleer  himself  lay  sprawling  on 
his  back,  in  a  side  dish,  with  uplifted  claws,  as  if  craving  that 
quarter  which  his  chivalrous  spirit  disdained  to  ask  while  living. 

As  the  enraptured  Ichabod  fancied  all  this,  and  as  he  rolled 
his  great  green  eyes  over  the  fat  meadow  lands,  the  rich  fields  of 
wheat,  of  rye,  of  buckwheat,  and  Indian  corn,  and  the  orchards 
burdened  with  ruddy  fruit,  which  surrounded  the  warm  tenement 
of  Van  Tassel,  his  heart  yearned  after  the  damsel  who  was  to 
inherit  these  domains,  and  his  imagination  expanded  with  the 
idea,  how  they  might  be.  readily  turned  into  cash,  and  the  money 
invested  in  immense  tracts  of  wild  land,  and  shingle  palaces  in  the 
wilderness.  Nay,  his  busy  fancy  already  realized  his  hopes,  and 
presented  to  him  the  blooming  Katrina,  with  a  whole  family  of 
children,  mounted  on  the  top  of  a  wagon  loaded  with  household 
trumpery,  with  pots  and  kettles  dangling  beneath ;  and  he  beheld 
himself  bestriding  a  pacing  mare,  with  a  colt  at  her  heels,  setting 
out  for  Kentucky,  Tennessee — or  the  Lord  knows  where! 

When  he  entered  the  house,  the  conquest  of  his  heart  was 
complete.  It  was  one  of  those  spacious  farmhouses,  with  high- 
ridged  but  lowly  sloping  roofs,  built  in  the  style  handed  down 
from  the  first  Dutch  settlers ;  the  low  projecting  eaves  forming  a 
piazza  along  the  front,  capable  of  being  closed  up  in  bad  weather. 
Under  this  were  hung  flails,  harness,  various  utensils  of  hus- 
bandry, and  nets  for  fishing  in  the  neighboring  river.  Benches 
were  built  along  the  sides  for  summer  use ;  and  a  great  spinning- 
wheel  at  one  end,  and  a  churn  at  the  other,  showed  the  various 
uses  to  which  this  important  porch  might  be  devoted.  From  this 
piazza  the  wondering  Ichabod  entered  the  hall,  which  formed  the 
center  of  the  mansion,  and  the  place  of  usual  residence.  Here 
rows  of  resplendent  pewter,  ranged  on  a  long  dresser,  dazzled 
his  eyes.      In  one  corner  stood  a  huge  bag  of  wool,  ready  to  be 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW.  13 


spun;  in  another,  a  quantity  of  linsey-woolsey  just  from  the 
loom;  ears  of  Indian  corn,  and  strings  of  dried  apples  and  peaches, 
hung  in  gay  festoons  along  the  walls,  mingled  with  the  gaud  of 
red  peppers;  and  a  door  left  ajar  gave  him  a  peep  into  the  best 
parlor,  where  the  claw-footed  chairs  and  dark  mahogany  tables 
shone  like  mirrors;  andirons,  with  their  accompanying  shovel 
and  tongs,  glistened  from  their  covert  of  asparagus  tops;  mock- 
oranges  and  conch-shells  decorated  the  mantelpiece;  strings  of 
various- colored  birds'  eggs  were  suspended  above  it;  a  great 
ostrich  egg  was  hung  from  the  center  of  the  room,  and  a  corner 
cupboard,  knowingly  left  open,  displayed  immense  treasures  of 
old  silver  and  well-mended  china. 

From  the  moment  Ichabod  laid  his  eyes  upon  these  regions  of 
delight,  the  peace  of  his  mind  was  at  an  end,  and  his  only  study 
was  how  to  gain  the  affections  of  the  peerless  daughter  of  Van 
Tassel.  In  this  enterprise,  however,  he  had  more  real  diffi- 
culties than  generally  fell  to  the  lot  of  a  knight-errant  of  yore, 
who  seldom  had  anything  but  giant,  enchanters,  fiery  dragons, 
and  such  like  easily  conquered  adversaries,  to  contend  with,  and 
had  to  make  his  way  merely  through  gates  of  iron  and  brass,  and 
walls  of  adamant  to  the  castle  keep,  where  the  lady  of  his  heart 
was  confined ;  all  which  he  achieved  as  easily  as  a  man  would  carve 
his  way  to  the  center  of  a  Christmas  pie ;  and  then  the  lady  gave 
him  her  hand  as  a  matter  of  course.  Ichabod,  on  the  contrary, 
had  to  win  his  way  to  the  heart  of  a  country  coquette,  beset  with 
a  labyrinth  of  whims  and  caprices,  which  were  forever  presenting 
new  difficulties  and  impediments ;  and  he  had  to  encounter  a  host 
of  fearful  adversaries  of  real  flesh  and  blood,  the  numerous  rustic 
admirers,  who  beset  every  portal  to  her  heart,  keeping  a  watchful 
and  angry  eye  upon  each  other,  but  ready  to  fly  out  in  the  common 
cause  against  any  new  competitor. 

Among  these,  the  most  formidable  was  a  burly,  roaring, 
roystering  blade,  of  the  name  of  Abraham,  or  according  to  the 
Dutch  abbreviation,  Brom  Van  Brunt,  the  hero  of  the  country 
round,  which  rang  with  his  feats  of  strength  and  hardihood. 
He  was  broad-shouldered  and  double-jointed,  with  short  curly 
black  hair,  and  a  bluff  but  no  unpleasant  countenance,  having  a 
mingled  air  of  fun  and  arrogance.  From  his  herculean  frame 
and  great  powers  of  limb,  he  had  received  the  nickname  of  Brom 


14         THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


Bones,  by  which  he  was  universally  known.  He  was  famed  for 
great  knowledge  and  skill  in  horsemanship,  being  as  dexterous 
on  horseback  as  a  Tartar.  He  was  foremost  at  all  races  and 
cock-fights;  and,  with  the  ascendancy  which  bodily  strength 
always  acquires  in  rustic  life,  was  the  umpire  in  all  disputes, 
setting  his  hat  on  one  side,  and  giving  his  decisions  with  an  air 
and  tone  that  admitted  of  no  gainsay  or  appeal.  He  was  always 
ready  for  either  a  fight  or  a  frolic;  but  had  more  mischief  than 
ill-will  in  his  composition ;  and  with  all  his  overbearing  roughness 
there  was  a  strong  dash  of  waggish  good  humor  at  bottom.  He 
had  three  or  four  boon  companions,  who  regarded  him  as  their 
model,  and  at  the  head  of  whom  he  scoured  the  country,  attending 
every  scene  of  feud  or  merriment  for  miles  round.  In  cold 
weather  he  was  distinguished  by  a  fur  cap,  surmounted  with  a 
flaunting  fox's  tail;  and  when  the  folks  at  a  country  gathering 
descried  this  well-known  crest  at  a  distance,  whisking  about 
among  a  squad  of  hard  riders,  they  always  stood  by  for  a  squall. 
Sometimes  his  crew  would  be  heard  dashing  along  past  the  farm- 
houses at  midnight,  with  a  whoop  and  halloo,  like  a  troop  of  Don 
Cossacks;  and  the  old  dames,  startled  out  of  their  sleep,  would 
listen  for  a  moment  till  the  hurry-scurry  had  clattered  by,  and 
then  exclaim,  "Ay,  there  goes  Brom  Bones  and  his  gang!"  The 
neighbors  looked  upon  him  with  a  mixture  of  awe,  admiration, 
and  good-will ;  and,  when  any  madcap  prank  or  rustic  brawl  oc- 
curred in  the  vicinity,  always  shook  their  heads,  and  warranted 
Brom  Bones  was  at  the  bottom  of  it. 

This  rantipole  hero  had  for  some  time  singled  out  the  bloom- 
ing Katrina  for  the  object  of  his  uncouth  gallantries,  and  though 
his  amorous  toyings  were  something  like  the  gentle  caresses  and 
endearments  of  a  bear,  yet  it  was  whispered  that  she  did  not 
altogether  discourage  his  hopes.  Certain  it  is,  his  advances  were 
signals  for  rival  candidates  to  retire,  who  felt  no  inclination  to 
cross  a  lion  in  his  amours;  insomuch,  that  when  his  horse  was 
seen  tied  to  Van  Tassel's  paling,  on  a  Sunday  night,  a  sure  sign 
that  his  master  was  courting,  or,  as  it  is  termed,  "sparking," 
within,  all  other  suitors  passed  by  in  despair,  and  carried  the  war 
into  other  quarters. 

Such  was  the  formidable  rival  with  whom  Ichabod  Crane  had 
to  contend,  and,  considering  all  things,  a  stouter  man  than  he 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


15 


would  have  shrunk  from  the  competition,  and  a  wiser  man  would 
have  despaired.  He  had,  however,  a  happy  mixture  of  pliability 
and  perseverance  in  his  nature;  he  was  in  form  and  spirit  like  a 
supple-jack — yielding,  but  tough;  though  he  bent,  he  never  broke; 
and  though  he  bowed  beneath  the  slightest  pressure,  yet,  the 
moment  it  was  away — jerk! — he  was  as  erect,  and  carried  his 
head  as  high  as  ever. 

To  have  taken  the  field  openly  against  his  rival  would  have 
been  madness ;  for  he  was  not  a  man  to  be  thwarted  in  his  amours, 
any  more  than  that  stormy  lover,  Achilles.  Ichabod,  therefore, 
made  his  advances  in  a  quiet  and  gently  insinuating  manner. 
Under  cover  of  his  character  of  singing-master,  he  made  frequent 
visits  at  the  farmhouse;  not  that  he  had  anything  to  apprehend 
from  the  meddlesome  interference  of  parents,  which  is  so  often 
a  stumbling-block  in- the  path  of  lovers.  Bait  Van  Tassel  was  an 
easy,  indulgent  soul ;  he  loved  his  daughter  better  even  than  his 
pipe,  and,  like  a  reasonable  man  and  an  excellent  father,  he  let 
her  have  her  way  in  everything.  His  notable  little  wife,  too,  had 
enough  >to  do  to  attend  to  her  housekeeping  and  manage  her 
poultry;  for,  as  she  sagely  observed,  ducks  and  geese  are  foolish 
things,  and  must  be  looked  after,  but  girls  can  take  care  of  them- 
selves. Thus,  while  the  busy  dame  bustled  about  the  house,  or 
plied  her  spinning-wheel  at  one  end  of  the  piazza,  honest  Bait 
would  sit  smoking  his  evening  pipe  at  the  other,  watching  the 
achievements  of  a  little  wooden  warrior,  who,  armed  with  a 
sword  in  each  hand,  was  most  valiantly  fighting  the  wind  on  the 
pinnacle  of  the  barn.  In  the  meantime,  Ichabod  would  carry 
on  his  suit  with  the  daughter  by  the  side  of  the  spring  under  the 
great  elm,  or  sauntering  along  in  the  twilight,  that  hour  so  favor- 
able to  the  lover's  eloquence. 

I  profess  not  to  know  how  women's  hearts  are  wooed  and 
won.  To  me  they  have  always  been  matters  of  riddle  and  ad- 
miration. Some  seem  to  have  but  one  vulnerable  point,  or  door 
of  access;  while  others  have  a  thousand  avenues,  and  may  be 
captured  in  a  thousand  different  ways.  It  is  a  great  triumph  of 
skill  to  gain  the  former,  but  a  still  greater  proof  of  generalship 
to  maintain  possession  of  the  latter,  for  a  man  must  battle  for 
his  fortress  at  every  door  and  window.  He  who  wins  a(  thou- 
sand common  hearts  is  therefore  entitled  to  some  renown;  but 


16         THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 

he  who  keeps  undisputed  sway  over  the  heart  of  a  coquette  is  in- 
deed a  hero.  Certain  it  is,  this  was  not  the  case  with  the  redoubt- 
able Brom  Bones ;  and  from  the  moment  Ichabod  Crane  made  his 
advances,  the  interests  of  the  former  evidently  declined ;  his  horse 
was  no  longer  seen  tied  to  the  palings  on  Sunday  nights,  and  a 
deadly  feud  arose  between  him  and  the  preceptor  of  Sleepy 
Hollow. 

Brom,  who  had  a  degree  of  rough  chivalry  in  his  nature, 
would  fain  have  carried  matters  to  open  warfare  and  have  settled 
their  pretensions  to  the  lady,  according  to  the  mode  of  those  most 
concise  and  simple  reasoners,  the  knights-errant  of  yore — by 
single  combat;  but  Ichabod  was  too  conscious  of  the  superior 
might  of  his  adversary  to  enter  the  lists  against  him;  he  had 
overheard  a  boast  of  Bones,  that  he  would  "double  the  school- 
master up,  and  lay  him  on  a  shelf  of  his  own  schoolhouse and 
he  was  too  wary  to  give  him  an  opportunity.  There  was  some- 
thing extremely  provoking  in  this  obstinately  pacific  system;  it 
left  Brom  no  alternative  but  to  draw  upon  the  funds  of  rustic 
waggery  in  his  disposition,  and  to  play  off  boorish  practical  jokes 
upon  his  rival.  Ichabod  became  the  object  of  whimsical  perse- 
cution to  Bones  and  his  gang  of  rough  riders.  They  harried  his 
hitherto  peaceful  domains,  smoked  out  his  singing-school  by 
stopping  up  the  chimney,  broke  into  the  schoolhouse  at  night,  in 
spite  of  its  formidable  fastenings  of  withe  and  window  stakes, 
and  turned  everything  topsy-turvy,  so  that  the  poor  schoolmaster 
began  to  think  all  the  witches  in  the  country  held  their  meetings 
there.  But  what  was  still  more  annoying,  Brom  took  all  oppor- 
tunities of  turning  him  into  ridicule  in  presence  of  his  mistress, 
and  had  a  scoundrel  dog  whom  he  taught  to  whine  in  the  most 
ludicrous  manner,  and  introduced  as  a  rival  of  Ichabod,  to  in- 
struct her  in  psalmody. 

In  this  way  matters  went  on  for  some  time,  without  producing 
any  material  effect  on  the  relative  situations  of  the  contending 
powers.  On  a  fine  autumnal  afternoon,  Ichabod,  in  pensive 
mood,  sat  enthroned  on  the  lofty  stool  from  whence  he  usually 
watched  all  the  concerns  of  his  little  literary  realm.  In  his 
hand  he  swayed  a  ferule,  that  scepter  of  despotic  power ;  the  birch 
of  justice  reposed  on  three  nails  behind  the  throne,  a  constant 
terror  to  evil  doers ;  while  on  the  desk  before  him  might  be 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


seen  sundry  contraband  articles  and  prohibited  weapons,  detected 
upon  the  persons  of  idle  urchins,  such  as  half -munched  apples, 
popguns,  whirligigs,  fly-cages,  and  whole  legions  of  rampant 
little  paper  game-cocks.  Apparently  there  had  been  some  ap- 
palling act  of  justice  recently  inflicted,  for  his  scholars  were  all 
busily  intent  upon  their  books,  or  slyly  whispering  behind  them 
with  one  eye  kept  upon  the  master;  and  a  kind  of  buzzing  still- 
ness reigned  throughout  the  schoolroom.  It  was  suddenly  in- 
terrupted by  the  appearance  of  a  negro  in  two-cloth  jacket  and 
trousers,  a  round-crowned  fragment  of  a  hat,  like  the  cap  of 
Mercury,  and  mounted  on  the  back  of  a  ragged,  wild,  half-broken 
colt,  which  he  managed  with  a  rope  by  way  of  halter.  He  came 
clattering  up  to  the  school  door  with  an  invitation  to  Ichabod  to 
attend  a  merry-making  or  "quilting-frolic,"  to  be  held  that  even- 
ing at  Mynheer  Van  Tassel's ;  and  having  delivered  his  message 
with  that  air  of  importance  and  effort  at  fine  language  which 
a  negro  is  apt  to  display  on  petty  embassies  of  the  kind,  he  dashed 
over  the  brook,  and  was  seen  scampering  away  up  the  Hollow, 
full  of  the  importance  and  hurry  of  his  mission. 

All  was  now  bustle  and  hubbub  in  the  late  quiet  schoolroom. 
The  scholars  were  hurried  through  their  lessons  without  stopping 
at  trifles ;  those  who  were  nimble  skipped  over  half  with  impunity, 
and  those  who  were  tardy  had  a  smart  application  now  and  then 
in  the  rear,  to  quicken  their  speed  or  help  them  over  a  tall  word. 
Books  were  flung  aside  without  being  put  away  on  the  shelves, 
inkstands  were  overturned,  benches  thrown  down,  and  the  whole 
school  was  turned  loose  an  hour  before  the  usual  time,  bursting 
forth  like  a  legion  of  young  imps,  yelping  and  racketing  about 
the  green  in  joy  at  their  early  emancipation. 

The  gallant  Ichabod  now  spent  at  least  an  extra  half  hour  at 
his  toilet,  brushing  and  furbishing  up  his  best,  and  indeed  only, 
suit  of  rusty  black,  and  arranging  his  locks  by  a  bit  of  broken 
looking-glass  that  hung  up  in  the  schoolhouse.  That  he  might 
make  his  appearance  before  his  mistress  in  the  true  style  of  a 
cavalier,  he  borrowed  a  horse  from  the  farmer  with  whom  he  was 
domiciled,  a  choleric  old  Dutchman  of  the  name  of  Hans  Van 
Ripper,  and,  thus  gallantly  mounted,  issued  forth  like  a  knight- 
errant  in  quest  of  adventures.  But  it  is  meet  I  should,  in  the  true 
spirit  of  romantic  story,  give  some  account  of  the  looks  and  equip- 


18         THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 

ments  of  my  hero  and  his  steed.  The  animal  he  bestrode  was 
a  broken-down  plow-horse,  that  had  outlived  almost  everything 
but  its  viciousness.  He  was  gaunt  and  shagged,  with  a  ewe 
neck,  and  a  head  like  a  hammer;  his  rusty  mane  and  tail  were 
tangled  and  knotted  with  burs;  one  eye  had  lost  its  pupil,  and 
was  glaring  and  spectral,  but  the  other  had  the  gleam  of  a  genuine 
devil  in  it.  Still  he  must  have  had  fire  and  mettle  in  his  day, 
if  we  may  judge  from  the  name  he  bore  of  Gunpowder.  He 
had,  in  fact,  been  a  favorite  steed  of  his  master's,  the  choleric 
Van  Ripper,  who  was  a  furious  rider,  and  had  infused,  very 
probably,  some  of  his  own  spirit  into  the  animal;  for,  old  and 
broken-down  as  he  looked,  there  was  more  of  the  lurking  devil  in 
him  than  in  any  young  filly  in  the  country. 

Ichabod  was  a  suitable  figure  for  such  a  steed.  He  rode 
with  short  stirrups,  which  brought  his  knees  nearly  up  to  the 
pommel  of  the  saddle;  his  sharp  elbows  stuck  out  like  grasshop- 
pers'; he  carried  his  whip  perpendicularly  in  his  hand,  like  a 
scepter,  and  as  his  horse  jogged  on,  the  motion  of  his  arms  was 
not  unlike  the  flapping  of  a  pair  of  wings.  A  small  wool  hat 
rested  on  the  top  of  his  nose,  for  so  his  scanty  strip  of  forehead 
might  be  called,  and  the  skirts  of  his  black  coat  fluttered  out  al- 
most to  the  horse's  tail.  Such  was  the  appearance  of  Ichabod 
and  his  steed  as  they  shambled  out  of  the  gate  of  Hans  Van  Rip- 
per, and  it  was  altogether  such  an  apparition  as  is  seldom  to  be  met 
with  in  broad  daylight. 

It  was,  as  I  have  said,  a  fine  autumnal  day ;  the  sky  was  clear 
and  serene,  and  nature  wore  that  rich  and  golden  livery  which 
we  always  associate  with  the  idea  of  abundance.  The  forests 
had  put  on  their  sober  brown  and  yellow,  while  some  trees  of 
the  tenderer  kind  had  been  nipped  by  the  frosts  into  brilliant  dyes 
of  orange,  purple,  and  scarlet.  Streaming  files  of  wild  ducks 
began  to  make  their  appearance  high  in  the  air;  the  bark  of  the 
squirrel  might  be  heard  from  the  groves  of  beech  and  hickory- 
nuts,  and  the  pensive  whistle  of  the  quail  at  intervals  from  the 
neighboring  stubble  field. 

The  small  birds  were  taking  their  farewell  banquets.  In 
the  fullness  of  their  revelry,  they  fluttered,  chirping  and  frolicking 
from  bush  to  bush,  and  tree  to  tree,  capricious  from  the  very 
profusion  and  variety  around  them.       There  was  the  honest 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW.  19 


cockrobin,  the  favorite  game  of  stripling  sportsmen,  with  its  loud 
querulous  note;  and  the  twittering  blackbirds  flying  in  sable 
clouds;  and  the  golden-winged  woodpecker,  with  his  crimson 
crest,  his  broad  black  gorget,  and  splendid  plumage;  and  the 
cedar-bird,  with  its  red-tipped  wings  and  yellow-tipped  tail  and  its 
little  monteiro  cap  of  feathers;  and  the  blue  jay,  that  noisy  cox- 
comb, in  his  gay  light  blue  coat  and  white  underclothes,  scream- 
ing and  chattering,  nodding  and  bobbing  and  bowing,  and  pre- 
tending to  be  on  good  terms  with  every  songster  of  the  grove. 

As  Ichabod  jogged  slowly  on  his  way,  his  eye,  ever  open  to 
every  symptom  of  culinary  abundance,  ranged  with  delight  over 
the  treasures  of  jolly  autumn.  On  all  sides  he  beheld  vast  stores 
of  apples;  some  hanging  in  oppressive  opulence  on  the  trees; 
some  gathered  into  baskets  and  barrels  for  the  market;  others 
heaped  up  in  rich  piles  for  the  cider-press.  Farther  on  he  beheld 
great  fields  of  Indian  corn,  with  its  golden  ears  peeping  from  their 
leafy  coverts,  and  holding  out  the  promise  of  cakes  and  hasty- 
pudding;  and  the  yellow  pumpkins  lying  beneath  them,  turning 
up  their  fair  round  bellies  to  the  sun,  and  giving  ample  prospects 
of  the  most  luxurious  of  pies;  and  anon  he  passed  the  fragrant 
buckwheat  fields  breathing  the  odor  of  the  beehive,  and  as  he 
beheld  them,  soft  anticipations  stole  over  his  mind  of  dainty  slap- 
jacks, well  buttered  and  garnished  with  honey  or  treacle,  by  the 
delicate  little  dimpled  hand  of  Katrina  Van  Tassel. 

Thus  feeding  his  mind  with  many  sweet  thoughts  and 
"sugared  suppositions,"  he  journeyed  along  the  sides  of  a  range 
of  hills  which  look  out  upon  some  of  the  goodliest  scenes  of  the 
mighty  Hudson.  The  sun  gradually  wheeled  his  broad  disk 
down  in  the  west.  The  wide  bosom  of  the  Tappan  Zee  lay  mo- 
tionless and  glassy,  excepting  that  here  and  there  a  gentle  undula- 
tion waved  and  prolonged  the  blue  shadow  of  the  distant  moun- 
tain. A  few  amber  clouds  floated  in  the  sky,  without  a  breath 
of  air  to  move  them.  The  horizon  was  of  a  fine  golden  tint, 
changing  gradually  into  a  pure  apple  green,  and  from  that  into 
the  deep  blue  of  the  mid-heaven.  A  slanting  ray  lingered  on 
the  woody  crests  of  the  precipices  that  overhung  some  parts  of 
the  river,  giving  greater  depth  to  the  dark  gray  and  purple  of 
their  rocky  sides.  A  sloop  was  loitering  in  the  distance,  dropping 
slowly  down  with  the  tide,  her  sail  hanging  uselessly  against  the 


20 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


mast;  and  as  the  reflection  of  the  sky  gleamed  along  the  still 
water,  it  seemed  as  if  the  vessel  was  suspended  in  the  air. 

It  was  toward  evening  that  Ichabod  arrived  at  the  castle  of  the 
Ileer  Van  Tassel,  which  he  found  thronged  with  the  pride  and 
flower  of  the  adjacent  country.  Old  farmers,  a  spare  leathern- 
faced  race,  in  homespun  coats  and  breeches,  blue  stockings,  huge 
shoes,  and  magnificent  pewter  buckles.  Their  brisk,  withered 
little  dames,  in  close  crimped  caps,  long-waisted  short-gowns, 
homespun  petticoats,  with  scissors  and  pin-cushions,  and  gay 
calico  pockets  hanging  on  the.  outside.  Buxom  lasses,  almost  as 
antiquated  as  their  mothers,  excepting  where  a  straw  hat,  a  fine 
ribbon,  or  perhaps  a  white  frock,  gave  symptoms  of  city  innova- 
tion. The  sons,  in  short  square-skirted  coats,  with  rows  of 
stupendous  brass  buttons,  and  their  hair  generally  queued  in  the 
fashion  of  the  times,  especially  if  they  could  procure  an  eelskin 
for  the  purpose,  it  being  esteemed  throughout  the  country  as  a 
potent  nourisher  and  strengthener  of  the  hair. 

Brom  Bones,  however,  was  the  hero  of  the  scene,  having  come 
to  the  gathering  on  his  favorite  steed  Daredevil,  a  creature,  like 
himself,  full  of  mettle  and  mischief,  and  which  no  one  but  himself 
could  manage.  He  was,  in  fact,  noted  for  preferring  vicious 
animals,  given  to  all  kinds  of  tricks  which  kept  the  rider  in  con- 
stant risk  of  his  neck,  for  he  held  a  tractable,  well-broken  horse 
as  unworthy  of  a  lad  of  spirit. 

Fain  would  I  pause  to  dwell  upon  the  world  of  charms  that 
burst  upon  the  enraptured  gaze  of  my  hero,  as  he  entered  the 
state  parlor  of  Van  Tassel's  mansion.  Not  those  of  the  bevy 
of  buxom  lasses,  with  their  luxurious  display  of  red  and  white; 
but  the  ample  charms  of  a  genuine  Dutch  country  tea-table,  in 
the  sumptuous  time  of  autumn.  Such  heaped-up  platters  of 
cakes  of  various  and  almost  indescribable  kinds,  known  only  to 
experienced  Dutch  housewives !  There  was  the  doughty  dough- 
nut, the  tender  olykoek,  and  the  crisp  and  crumbling  cruller; 
sweet  cakes  and  short  cakes,  ginger  cakes  and  honey  cakes,  and 
the  whole  family  of  cakes.  And  then  there  were  apple  pies, 
and  peach  pies,  and  pumpkin  pies;  besides  slices  of  ham  and 
smoked  beef ;  and  moreover  delectable  dishes  of  preserved  plums, 
and  peaches,  and  pears,  and  quinces;  not  to  mention  broiled  shad 
and  roasted  chickens;  together  with  bowls  of  milk  and  cream, 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW.  21 

all  mingled  higgledy-piggledy,  pretty  much  as  I  have  enumerated 
them,  with  .the  motherly  teapot  sending  up  its  clouds  of  vapor  from 
the  midst — Heaven  bless  the  mark!  I  want  breath  and  time 
to  discuss  this  banquet  as  it  deserves,  and  am  too  eager  to  get  on 
with  my  story.  Happily,  Ichabod  Crane  was  not  in  so  great  a 
hurry  as  his  historian,  but  did  ample  justice  to  every  dainty. 

He  was  a  kind  and  thankful  creature,  whose  heart  dilated 
in  proportion  as  his  skin  was  filled  with  good  cheer,  and  whose 
spirits  rose  with  eating,  as  some  men's  do  with  drink.  He  could 
not  help,  too,  rolling  his  large  eyes  round  him  as  he  ate,  and 
chuckling  with  the  possibility  that  he  might  one  day  be  lord  of 
all  this  scene  of  almost  unimaginable  luxury  and  splendor.  Then, 
he  thought,  how  soon  he'd  turn  his  back  upon  the  old  school- 
house  ;  snap  his  fingers  in  the  face  of  Hans  Van  Ripper,  and  every 
other  niggardly  patron,  and  kick  any  itinerant  pedagogue  out  of 
doors  that  should  dare  to  call  him  comrade ! 

Old  Baltus  Van  Tassel  moved  about  among  his  guests  with  a 
face  dilated  with  content  and  good-humor,  round  and  jolly  as  the 
harvest  moon.  His  hospitable  attentions  were  brief,  but  expres- 
sive, being  confined  to  a  shake  of  the  hand,  a  slap  on  the  shoul- 
der, a  loud  laugh,-  and  a  pressing  invitation  to  "fall  to,  and  help 
themselves." 

And  now  the  sound  of  the  music  from  the  common  room,  or 
hall,  summoned  to  the  dance.  The  musician  was  an  old  gray- 
headed  negro,  who  had  been  the  itinerant  orchestra  of  the  neigh- 
borhood for  more  than  half  a  century.  His  instrument  was 
as  old  and  battered  as  himself.  The  greater  part  of  the  time 
he  scraped  on  two  or  three  strings,  accompanying  every  move- 
ment of  the  bow  with  a  motion  of  the  head ;  bowing  almost  to 
the  ground,  and  stamping  with  his  foot  whenever  a  fresh  couple 
were  to  start. 

Ichabod  prided  himself  upon  his  dancing  as  much  as  upon  his 
vocal  powers.  Not  a  limb,  not  a  fibre  about  him  was  idle;  and 
to  have  seen  his  loosely  hung  frame  in  full  motion,  and  clattering 
about  the  room,  you  would  have  thought  St.  Vitus  himself,  that 
blessed  patron  of  the  dance,  was  figuring  before  you  in  person. 
He  was  the  admiration  of  all  the  negroes ;  who,  having  gathered, 
of  all  ages  and  sizes,  from  the  farm  and  the  neighborhood,  stood 
forming  a  pyramid  of  shining  black  faces  at  every  door  and 


22         THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


window;  gazing  with  delight  at  the  scene;  rolling  their  white 
eye-balls,  and  showing  grinning  rows  of  ivory  from  ear  to  ear. 
How  could  the  fiogger  of  urchins  be  otherwise  than  animated 
and  joyous?  the  lady  of  his  heart  was  his  partner  in  the  dance, 
and  smiling  graciously  in  reply  to  all  his  amorous  oglings;  while 
Brom  Bones,  sorely  smitten  with  love  and  jealousy,  sat  brooding 
by  himself  in  one  corner. 

When  the  dance  was  at  an  end,  Ichabod  was  attracted  to  a 
knot  of  the  sager  folks,  who,  with  Old  Van  Tassel,  sat  smoking 
at  one  end  of  the  piazza,  gossiping  over  former  times,  and  draw- 
ing out  long  stories  about  the  war. 

This  neighborhood,  at  the  time  of  which  I  am  speaking,  was 
one  of  those  highly  favored  places  which  abound  with  chronicle 
and  great  men.  The  British  and  American  line  had  run  near 
it  during  the  war ;  it  had,  therefore,  been  the  scene  of  marauding, 
and  infested  with  refugees,  cow-boys,  and  all  kinds  of  border 
chivalry.  Just  sufficient  time  had  elapsed  to  enable  each  story- 
teller to  dress  up  his  tale  with  a  little  becoming  fiction,  and,  in  the 
indistinctiveness  of  his  recollection,  to  make  himself  the  hero  of 
every  exploit. 

There  was  the  story  of  Doffue  Martling,  a  large  blue-bearded 
Dutchman,  who  had  nearly  taken  a  British  frigate  with  an  old 
iron  nine-pounder  from  a  mud  breastwork,  only  that  his  gun 
burst  at  the  sixth  discharge.  And  there  was  an  old  gentleman 
who  shall  be  nameless,  being  too  rich  a  mynheer  to  be  lightly 
mentioned,  who,  in  the  battle  of  White  Plains,  being  an  excellent 
master  of  defense,  parried  a  musket-ball  with  a  small-sword,  in- 
somuch that  he  absolutely  felt  it  whiz  round  the  blade,  and  glance 
off  at  the  hilt;  in  proof  of  which  he  was  ready  at  any  time  to 
show  the  sword,  with  the  hilt  a  little  bent.  There  were  several 
more  that  had  been  equally  great  in  the  field,  not  one  of  whom 
but  was  persuaded  that  he  had  a  considerable  hand  in  bringing 
the  war  to  a  happy  termination. 

But  all  these  were  nothing  to  the  tales  of  ghosts  and  apparitions 
that  succeeded.  The  neighborhood  is  rich  in  legendary  treasures 
of  the  kind.  Local  tales  and  superstitions  thrive  best  in  these 
sheltered,  long-settled  retreats;  but  are  trampled  under  foot  by 
the  shifting  throng  that  forms  the  population  of  most*of  our 
country  places.    Besides,  there  is  no  encouragement  for  ghosts 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


*3 


in  most  of  our  villages,  for  they  have  scarcely  had  time  to  finish 
their  first  nap  and  turn  themselves  in  their  graves  before  their 
surviving  friends  have  traveled  away  from  the  neighborhood; 
so  that  when  they  turn  out  at  night  to  walk  their  rounds,  they 
have  no  acquaintance  left  to  call  upon.  This  is  perhaps  the  reason 
why  we  so  seldom  hear  of  ghosts  except  in  our  long-established 
Dutch  communities. 

The  immediate  cause,  however,  of  the  prevalence  of  super- 
natural stories  in  these  parts,  was  doubtless  owing  to  the  vicinity 
of  Sleepy  Hollow.  There  was  a  contagion  in  the  very  air  that 
blew  from  that  haunted  region ;  it  breathed  forth  an  atmosphere 
of  dreams  and  fancies  infecting  all  the  land.  Several  of  the 
Sleepy  Hollow  people  were  present  at  Van  Tassel's,  and,  as 
usual,  were  doling  out  their  wild  and  wonderful  legends.  Many 
dismal  tales  were  told  about  funeral  trains,  and  mourning  cries 
and  wai lings  heard  and  seen  about  the  great  tree  where  the 
unfortunate  Major  Andre  was  taken,  and  which  stood  in  the 
neighborhood.  Some  mention  was  made  also  of  the  woman  in 
white  that  haunted  the  dark  glen  at  Raven  Rock,  and  was  often 
heard  to  shriek  on  winter  nights  before  a  storm,  having  perished 
in  the  snow.  The  chief  part  of  the  stories,  however,  turned  upon 
the  favorite  specter  of  Sleepy  Hollow;  the  Headless  Horseman, 
who  had  been  heard  several  times  of  late,  patrolling  the  country ; 
and,  it  was  said,  tethered  his  horse  nightly  among  the  graves  in 
the  churchyard. 

The  sequestered  situation  of  this  church  seems  always  to  have 
made  it  a  favorite  haunt  of  troubled  spirits.  It  stands  on  a  knoll, 
surrounded  by  locust  trees  and  lofty  elms,  from  among  which 
its  decent,  whitewashed  walls  shine  modestly  forth,  like  Christian 
purity  beaming  through  the  shades  of  retirement.  A  gentle  slope 
descends  from  it  to  a  silver  sheet  of  water,  bordered  by  high 
trees,  between  which  peeps  may  be  caught  at  the  blue  hills  of  the 
Hudson.  To  look  upon  its  grass-grown  yard,  where  the  sun- 
beams seem  to  sleep  so  quietly,  one  would  think  that  there  at  least 
the  dead  might  rest  in  peace  On  one  side  of  the  church  extends 
a  wide  woody  dell,  along  which  raves  a  large  brook  among 
broken  rocks  and  trunks  of  fallen  trees.  Over  a  deep  black  part 
of  the  stream,  not  far  from  the  church,  was  formerly  thrown  a 


24 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


wooden  bridge;  the  road  that  led  to  it,  and  the  bridge  itself,  were 
thickly  shaded  by  overhanging  trees,  which  cast  a  gloom  about 
it,  even  in  the  daytime ;  but  occasioned  a  fearful  darkness  at  night. 
Such  was  one  of  the  favorite  haunts  of  the  Headless  Horseman, 
and  the  place  where  he  was  most  frequently  encountered.  The 
tale  was  told  of  old  Brouwer,  a  most  heretical  disbeliever  in 
ghosts,  how  he  met  the  Horseman  returning  from  his  foray  into 
Sleepy  Hollow,  and  was  obliged  to  get  up  behind  him ;  how  they 
galloped  over  bush  and  brake,  over  hill  and  swamp,  until  they 
reached  the  bridge,  when  the  Horseman  suddenly  turned  into  a 
skeleton,  threw  old  Brouwer  into  the  brook,  and  sprang  away 
over  the  tree-tops  with  a  clap  of  thunder. 

This  story  was  immediately  matched  by  a  thrice  marvelous 
adventure  of  Brom  Bones,  who  made  light  of  the  Galloping  Hes- 
sian as  an  arrant  jockey.  He  affirmed  that  on  returning  one 
night  from  the  neighboring  village  of  Sing  Sing,  he  had  been 
overtaken  by  this  midnight  trooper;  that  he  had  offered  to  race 
with  him  for  a  bowl  of  punch,  and  should  have  won  it,  too,  for 
Daredevil  beat  the  goblin  horse  all  hollow,  but  just  as  they  came 
to  the  church  bridge  the  Hessian  bolted,  and  vanished  in  a  flash 
of  fire. 

All  these  tales,  told  in  that  drowsy  undertone  with  which  men 
talk  in  the  dark,  the  countenances  of  the  listeners  only  now  and 
then  receiving  a  casual  gleam  from  the  glare  of  a  pipe,  sank  deep 
in  the  mind  of  Ichabod.  He  repaid  them  in  kind  with  large 
extracts  from  his  invaluable  author,  Cotton  Mather,  and  added 
many  marvelous  events  that  had  taken  place  in  his  native  state  of 
Connecticut,  and  fearful  sights  which  he  had  seen  in  his  nightly 
walks  about  Sleepy  Hollow. 

The  revel  now  gradually  broke  up.  The  old  farmers  gathered 
together  their  families  in  their  wagons,  and  were  heard  for  some 
time  rattling  along  the  hollow  roads  and  over  the  distant  hills. 
Some  of  the  damsels  mounted  on  pillions  behind  their  favorite 
swains,  and  their  light-hearted  laughter,  mingling  with  the  clatter 
of  hoofs,  echoed  along  the  silent  woodlands,  sounding  fainter 
and  fainter,  until  they  gradually  died  away — and  the  late  scene 
of  noise  and  frolic  was  all  silent  and  deserted.  Ichabod  only 
lingered  behind,  according  to  the  custom  of  country  lovers,  to 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW.  2$ 


have  a  tete-a-tete  with  the  heiress,  fully  convinced  that  he  was 
now  on  the  high  road  to  success.  What  passed  at  this  interview 
I  will  not  pretend  to  say,  for  in  fact  I  do  not  know.  Something, 
however,  I  fear  me,  must  have  gone  wrong,  for  he  certainly 
sallied  forth,  after  no  very  great  interval,  with  an  air  quite 
desolate  and  chapfallen.  Oh,  these  women !  these  women !  Could 
that  girl  have  been  playing  off  any  of  her  coquettish  tricks  ?  Was 
her  encouragement  of  the  poor  pedagogue  all  a  mere  sham  to 
secure  her  conquest  of  his  rival?  Heaven  only  knows,  not  I! 
Let  it  suffice  to  say,  Ichabod  stole  forth  with  the  air  of  one  who 
had  been  sacking  a  henroost,  rather  than  a  fair  lady's  heart. 
Without  looking  to  the  right  or  left  to  notice  the  scene  of  rural 
wealth,  on  which  he  had  so  often  gloated,  he  went  straight  to 
the  stable,  and  with  several  hearty  cuffs  and  kicks  roused  his 
steed  most  uncourteously  from  the  comfortable  quarters  in  which 
he  was  soundly  sleeping,  dreaming  of  mountains  of  corn  and 
oats,  and  whole  valleys  of  timothy  and  clover. 

It  was  the  very  witching  time  of  night  that  Ichabod,  heavy- 
hearted  and  crestfallen,  pursued  his  travels  homeward,  along 
the  sides  of  the  lofty  hills  which  rise  above  Tarry  Town,  and 
which  he  had  traversed  so  cheerily  in  the  afternoon.  The  hour 
was  as  dismal  as  himself.  Far  below  him  the  Tappan  Zee  spread 
its  dusky  and  indistinct  waste  of  waters,  with  here  and  there  the 
tall  mast  of  a  sloop,  riding  quietly  at  anchor  under  the  land.  In 
the  dead  hush  of  midnight  he  could  even  hear  the  barking  of 
the  watchdog  from  the  opposite  shore  of  the  Hudson ;  but  it  was 
so  vague  and  faint  as  only  to  give  an  idea  of  his  distance  from 
this  faithful  companion  of  man.  Now  and  then,  too,  the  long- 
drawn  crowing  of  a  cock,  accidentally  awakened,  would  sound 
far,  far  off,  from  some  farmhouse  away  among  the  hills — but 
it  was  like  a  dreaming  sound  in  his  ear.  No  signs  of  life  occurred 
near  him,  but  occasionally  the  melancholy  chirp  of  a  cricket, 
or  perhaps  the  guttural  twang  of  a  bull-frog  from  a  neighboring 
marsh,  as  if  sleeping  uncomfortably  and  turning  suddenly  in 
his  bed. 

All  the  stories  of  ghosts  and  goblins  that  he  had  heard  in  the 
afternoon  now  came  crowding  upon  his  recollection.  The  night 
grew  darker  and  darker;  the  stars  seemed  to  sink  deeper  in  the 


26 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


sky,  and  driving  clouds  occasionally  hid  them  from  his  sight. 
He  had  never  felt  so  lonely  and  dismal.  He  was,  moreover, 
approaching  the  very  place  where  many  of  the  scenes  of  the  ghost 
stories  had  been  laid.  In  the  center  of  the  road  stood  an  enor- 
mous tulip-tree,  which  towered  like  a  giant  above  all  the  other 
trees  of  the  neighborhood,  and  formed  a  kind  of  landmark.  Its 
limbs  were  gnarled  and  fantastic,  large  enough  to  form  trunks 
for  ordinary  trees,  twisting  down  almost  to  the  earth  and  rising 
again  into  the  air.  It  was  connected  with  the  tragical  story  of 
the  unfortunate  Andre,  who  had  been  taken  prisoner  hard  by, 
and  was  universally  known  by  the  name  of  Major  Andre's  tree. 
The  common  people  regarded  it  with  a  mixture  of  respect  and 
superstition,  partly  out  of  sympathy  for  the  fate  of  its  ill-starred 
namesake,  and  partly  from  the  tales  of  strange  sights  and  doleful 
lamentations  told  concerning  it. 

As  Ichabod  approached  this  fearful  tree  he  began  to  whistle; 
he  thought  his  whistle  was  answered ;  it  was  but  a  blast  sweeping 
sharply  through  the  dry  branches.  As  he  approached  a  little 
nearer  he  thought  he  saw  something  white,  hanging  in  the 
midst  of  the  tree ;  he  paused,  and  ceased  whistling ;  but,  on  looking 
more  narrowly,  perceived  that  it  was  a  place  where  the  tree  had 
been  scathed  by  lightning,  and  the  white  wood  laid  bare.  Sud- 
denly he  heard  a  groan — his  teeth  chattered,  and  his  knees  smote 
against  the  saddle;  it  was  but  the  rubbing  of  one  huge  bough 
upon  another,  as  they  were  swayed  about  by  the  breeze.  He 
passed  the  tree  in  safety,  but  new  perils  lay  before  him. 

About  two  hundred  yards  from  the  tree  a  small  brook  crossed 
the  road  and  ran  into  a  marshy  and  thickly-wooded  glen,  known 
by  the  name  of  Wiley's  Swamp.  A  few  rough  logs,  laid  side 
by  side,  served  for  a  bridge  over  this  stream.  On  that  side  of  the 
road  where  the  brook  entered  the  wood  a  group  of  oaks  and 
chestnuts,  matted  thick  with  wild  grapevines,  threw  a  cavernous 
gloom  over  it.  To  pass  this  bridge  was  the  severest  trial.  It 
was  at  this  identical  spot  that  the  unfortunate  Andre  was  cap- 
tured, and  under  the  covert  of  those  chestnuts  and  vines  were 
the  sturdy  yeomen  concealed  who  surprised  him.  This  has  ever 
since  been  considered  a  haunted  stream,  and  fearful  are  the 
feelings  of  the  schoolboy  who  has  to  pass  it  alone  after  dark. 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


As  he  approached  the  stream  his  heart  began  to  thump;  he 
summoned  up,  however,  all  his  resolution,  gave  his  horse  half  a 
score  of  kicks  in  the  ribs,  and  attempted  to  dash  brisky  across 
the  bridge;  but  instead  of  starting  forward,  the  perverse  old 
animal  made  a  lateral  movement,  and  ran  broadside  against  the 
fence.  Ichabod,  whose  fears  increased  with  the  delay,  jerked 
the  reins  on  the  other  side,  and  kicked  lustily  with  the  contrary 
foot;  it  was  all  in  vain;  his  steed  started,  it  is  true,  but  it  was 
only  to  plunge  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  road  into  a  thicket 
of  brambles  and  alder-bushes.  The  schoolmaster  now  bestowed 
both  whip  and  heel  upon  the  starveling  ribs  of  old  Gunpowder, 
who  dashed  forward,  snuffling  and  snorting,  but  came  to  a  stand 
just  by  the  bridge,  with  a  suddenness  that  had  nearly  sent  his 
rider  sprawling  over  his  head.  Just  at  this  moment  a  plashy 
tramp  by  the  side  of  the  bridge  caught  the  sensitive  ear  of  Icha- 
hpd.  In  the  dark  shadow  of  the  grove,  on  the  margin  of  the 
brook,  he  beheld  something  huge,  misshapen,  and  towering.  It 
stirred  not,  but  seemed  gathered  up  in  the  gloom,  like  some 
gigantic  monster  ready  to  spring  upon  the  traveler. 

The  hair  of  the  affrighted  pedagogue  rose  upon  his  head  with 
terror.  What  was  to  be  done?  To  turn  and  fly  was  now  too 
late;  and  besides,  what  chance  was  there  of  escaping  ghost  or 
goblin,  if  such  it  was,  which  could  ride  upon  the  wings  of  the 
wind?  Summoning  up,  therefore,  a  show  of  courage,  he  de- 
manded in  stammering  accents,  "Who  are  you?"  He  received 
no  reply.  He  repeated  his  demand  in  a  still  more  agitated  voice. 
Still  there  was  no  answer.  Once  more  he  cudgeled  the  sides  of 
the  inflexible  Gunpowder,  and,  shutting  his  eyes,  broke  forth 
with  involuntary  fervor  into  a  psalm  tune.  Just  then  the  shadowy 
object  of  alarm  put  itself  in  motion,  and  with  a  scramble  and  a 
bound  stood  at  once  in  the  middle  of  the  road.  Though  the  night 
v/as  dark  and  dismal,  yet  the  form  of  the  unknown  might  now 
in  some  degree  be  ascertained.  He  appeared  to  be  a  horseman 
Gf  large  dimensions,  and  mounted  on  a  black  horse  of  powerful 
frame.  He  made  no  offer  of  molestation  or  sociability,  but  kept 
aloof  on  one  side  of  the  road,  jogging  along  on  the  blind  side  of 
old  Gunpowder,  who  had  now  got  over  his  fright  and  wayward- 
ness. 


28         THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


Ychabod,  who  had  no  relish  for  this  strange  midnight  com- 
panion, and  bethought  himself  of  the  adventure  of  Brom  Bones 
with  the  Galloping  Hessian,  now  quickened  his  steed  in  hopes 
of  leaving  him  behind.  The  stranger,  however,  quickened  his 
horse  to  an  equal  pace.  Ichabod  pulled  up,  and  fell  into  a  walk, 
thinking  to  lag  behind — the  other  did  the  same.  His  heart  began 
to  sink  within  him ;  he  endeavored  to  resume  his  psalm  tune,  but 
his  parched  tongue  clove  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth,  and  he  could 
not  utter  a  stave.  There  was  something  in  the  moody  and 
dogged  silence  of  this  pertinacious  companion  that  was  mysteri- 
ous and  appalling.  It  was  soon  fearfully  accounted  for.  On 
mounting  a  rising  ground,  which  brought  the  figure  of  his  fellow 
traveler  in  relief  against  the  sky,  gigantic  in  height,  and  muffled 
in  a  cloak,  Ichabod  was  horror-struck  on  perceiving  that  he  was 
headless !  But  his  horror  was  still  more  increased  on  observing 
that  the  head,  which  should  have  rested  on  his  shoulders,  was 
carried  before  him  on  the  pommel  of  his  saddle !  His  terror  rose 
to  desperation;  he  rained  a  shower  of  kicks  and  blows  upon 
Gunpowder,  hoping  by  a  sudden  movement  to  give  his  companion 
the  slip;  but  the  specter  started  full  jump  with  him.  Away,  then, 
they  dashed  through  thick  and  thin,  stones  flying  and  sparks 
flashing  at  every  bound.  Ichabod's  flimsy  garments  fluttered  in 
the  air,  as  he  stretched  his  long,  lank  body  away  over  his  horse's 
head,  in  the  eagerness  of  his  flight. 

They  had  now  reached  the  road  which  turns  off  to  Sleepy 
Hollow;  but  Gunpowder,  who  seemed  possessed  with  a  demon, 
instead  of  keeping  up  it,  made  an  opposite  turn,  and  plunged 
headlong  down  hill  to  the  left.  This  road  leads  through  a  sandy 
hollow,  shaded  by  trees  for  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  where 
it  crosses  the  bridge  famous  in  goblin  story;  and  just  beyond 
swells  the  green  knoll  on  which  stands  the  whitewashed  church. 

As  yet  the  panic  of  the  steed  had  given  his  unskillful  rider  an 
apparent  advantage  in  the  chase;  but  just  as  he  had  got  half  way 
through  the  hollow,  the  girths  of  the  saddle  gave  way,  and  he 
felt  it  slipping  from  under  him.  He  seized  it  by  the  pommel, 
and  endeavored  to  hold  it  firm,  but  in  vain;  and  had  just  time 
to  save  himself  by  clasping  old  Gunpowder  round  the  neck,  when 
the  saddle  fell  to  the  earth,  and  he  heard  it  trampled  under  foot 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW.  29 


by  his  pursuer.  For  a  moment  .the  terror  of  Hans  Van  Ripper's 
wrath  passed  across  his  mind — for  it  was  his  Sunday  saddle ;  but 
this  was  no  time  for  petty  fears;  the  goblin  was  hard  on  his 
haunches,  and  (unskillful  rider  that  he  was!)  he  had  much  ado 
to  maintain  his  seat,  sometimes  slipping  on  one  side,  sometimes 
on  another,  and  sometimes  jolted  on  the  high  ridge  of  his  horse's 
backbone,  with  a  violence  that  he  verily  feared  would  cleave  him 
asunder. 

An  opening  in  the  trees  now  cheered  him  with  the  hopes  that 
the  church  bridge  was  at  hand.  The  wavering  reflection  of  a 
silver  star  in  the  bosom  of  the  brook  told  him  that  he  was  not 
mistaken.  He  saw  the  walls  of  the  church  dimly  glaring  under 
the  trees  beyond.  He  recollected  the  place  where  Brom  Bones' 
ghostly  competitor  had  disappeared.  "If  I  can  but  reach  the 
bridge,"  thought  Ichabod,  "I  am  safe."  Just  then  he  heard  the 
black  steed  panting  and  blowing  close  behind  him;  he  even 
fancied  that  he  felt  his  hot  breath.  Another  convulsive  kick  in 
the  ribs,  and  eld  Gunpowder  sprang  upon  the  bridge;  he  thun- 
dered over  the  resounding  planks;  he  gained  the  opposite  side; 
and  now  Ichabod  cast  a  look  behind  to  see  if  his  pursuer  should 
vanish,  according  to  rule,  in  a  flash  of  fire  and  brimstone.  Just 
then  he  saw  the  goblin  rising  in  his  stirrups,  and  in  the  very  act 
of  hurling  his  head  at  him.  Ichabod  endeavored  to  dodge  the 
horrible  missile,  but  too  late.  It  encountered  his  cranium  with 
a  tremendous  crash — he  was  tumbled  headlong  into  the  dust,  and 
Gunpowder,  the  black  steed,  and  the  goblin  rider  passed  by  like 
a  whirlwind. 

The  next  morning  the  old  horse  was  found  without  his  saddle, 
and  with  the  bridle  under  his  feet,  soberly  cropping  the  grass  at 
his  master's  gate.  Ichabod  did  not  make  his  appearance  at  break- 
fast ;  dinner  hour  came,  but  no  Ichabod.  The  boys  assembled  at 
the  school  house,  and  strolled  idly  about  the  banks  of  the  brook, 
but  no  schoolmaster.  Hans  Van  Ripper  now  began  to  feel  some 
uneasiness  about  the  fate  of  poor  Ichabod  and  his  saddle.  An 
inquiry  was  set  on  foot,  and  after  diligent  investigation  they 
came  upon  his  traces.  In  one  part  of  the  road  leading  to  the 
church  was  found  the  saddle  trampled  in  the  dirt ;  the  tracks  of 
horses'  hoofs  deeply  dented  in  the  road,  and  evidently  at  furious 


30         THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 


speed,  were  traced  to  the  bridge,  beyond  which,  on  the  bank  of 
a  broad  part  of  the  brook,  where  the  water  ran  deep  and  black, 
was  found  the  hat  of  the  unfortunate  Ichabod,  and  close  beside 
it  a  shattered  pumpkin. 

The  brook  was  searched,  but  the  body  of  the  schoolmaster  was 
not  to  be  discovered.  Hans  Van  Ripper,  as  executor  of  his  estate, 
examined  the  bundle  which  contained  all  his  worldly  effects. 
They  consisted  of  two  shirts  and  a  half ;  two  stocks  for  the  neck ; 
a  pair  or  two  of  worsted  stockings ;  an  old  pair  of  corduroy  small- 
clothes, a  rusty  razor,  a  book  of  psalm  tunes  full  of  dogs'-ears, 
and  a  broken  pitch-pipe.  As  to  the  books  and  furniture  of  the 
schoolhouse,  they  belonged  to  the  community,  excepting  Cotton 
Mather's  History  of  Witchcraft,  a  New  England  Almanac,  and 
a  book  of  dreams  and  fortune-telling,  in  which  last  was  a  sheet 
of  foolscap  much  scribbled  and  blotted  in  several  fruitless  at- 
tempts to  make  a  copy  of  verses  in  honor  of  the  heiress  of  Van 
Tassel.  These  magic  books  and  the  poetic  scrawl  were  forthwith 
consigned  to  the  flames  by  Hans  Van  Ripper,  who,  from  that 
time  forward,  determined  to  send  his  children  no  more  to  school, 
observing  that  he  never  knew  any  good  come  of  this  same  read- 
ing and  writing.  Whatever  money  the  schoolmaster  possessed, 
and  he  had  received  his  quarter's  pay  but  a  day  or  two  before, 
he  must  have  had  about  his  person  at  the  time  of  his  disappear- 
ance. 

The  mysterious  event  caused  much  speculation  at  the  church 
on  the  following  Sunday.  Knots  of  gazers  and  gossips  were 
collected  in  the  churchyard,  at  the  bridge,  and  at  the  spot  where 
the  hat  and  pumpkin  had  been  found.  The  stories  of  Brouwer, 
of  Bones,  and  a  whole  budget  of  others  were  called  to  mind ;  and 
when  they  had  diligently  considered  them  all,  and  compared  them 
with  the  symptoms  of  the  present  case,  they  shook  their  heads, 
and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  Ichabod  had  been  carried  off  by 
the  Galloping  Hessian.  As  he  was  a  bachelor,  and  in  nobody's 
debt,  nobody  troubled  his  head  any  more  about  him;  the  school 
was  removed  to  a  different  quarter  of  the  Hollow,  and  another 
pedagogue  reigned  in  his  stead. 

It  is  true,  an  old  farmer,  who  had  been  down  to  New  York  on 
a  visit  several  years  after,  and  from  whom  this  account  of  tfie 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SLEEPY  HOLLO  W.  31 


ghostly  adventure  was  received,  brought  home  the  intelligence 
that  Ichabod  Crane  was  still  alive ;  that  he  had  left  the  neighbor- 
hood partly  through  fear  of  the  goblin  and  Hans  Van  Ripper, 
and  partly  in  mortification  at  having  been  suddenly  dismissed  by 
the  heiress;  that  he  had  changed  his  quarters  to  a  distant  part 
of  the  country ;  had  kept  school  and  studied  law  at  the  same  time ; 
had  been  admitted  to  the  bar;  turned  politician;  electioneered; 
written  for  the  newspapers,  and  finally  had  been  made  a  justice 
of  the  ten-pound  court.  Brom  Bones,  too,  who,  shortly  after 
his  rival's  disappearance,  conducted  the  blooming  Katrina  in 
triumph  to  the  altar,  was  observed  to  look  exceedingly  knowing 
whenever  the  story  of  Ichabod  was  related,  and  always  burst 
into  a  hearty  laugh  at  the  mention  of  the  pumpkin;  which  led 
some  to  suspect  that  he  knew  more  about  the  matter  than  he 
chose  to  tell. 

The  old  country  wives,  however,  who  are  the  best  judges  of 
these  matters,  maintain  to  this  day  that  Ichabod  was  spirited 
away  by  supernatural  means ;  and  it  is  a  favorite  story  often  told 
about  the  neighborhood  round  the  winter  evening  fire.  The 
bridge  became  more  than  ever  an  object  of  superstitious  awe;  and 
that  may  be  the  reason  why  the  road  has  been  altered  of  late 
years,  so  as  to  approach  the  church  by  the  border  of  the  millpond. 
The  schoolhouse  being  deserted,  soon  fell  to  decay,  and  was 
reported  to  be  haunted  by  the  ghost  of  the  unfortunate  peda- 
gogue ;  and  the  plowboy,  loitering  homeward  of  a  still  summer 
evening,  has  often  fancied  his  voice  at  a  distance,  chanting  a 
melancholy  psalm  tune  among  the  tranquil  solitudes  of  Sleepy 
Hollow, 


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